


step by step by step

by morino



Series: [ verse ] - bend don't break (bits and pieces) [1]
Category: springwave
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morino/pseuds/morino
Summary: he mopes about not being able to perform tonight. he mopes about having to perform at all.[ bend don't break (pre-debut); woondo ]





	step by step by step

**INT. GOLD HEART THEATER - OPENING NIGHT - MID EVENING**  
  
The lights are bright, colorful, swirling; choreographed in time with several feet pounding against the stage.  
  
The floor seems to vibrate from the force of it all, their collective passion. Wood buckles under the weight of their hopes, shakes them to their very core. As each stomp falls in time with the bass pumping through their veins, their feet hit harder. Their voices hit higher. Their eyes shine brighter.  
  
The audience watches on in pockets. Parents, siblings, loved ones. Old co-workers that had to say goodbye to this stage at some point or another but keep coming back, friends with free time on their hands. The stray, bored student with nothing else to do watching intently from the very back row. A couple giggling quietly to the right, paying the story unraveling before them no mind. Faceless bodies sprinkled here and there with too much space between them.  
  
The lights are bright, white, and still; the ground no longer shakes and tiny specks of dust glitter under the beams of the stage lights.  
  
Woondo stops, lungs burning, and the rest of the world follows.  
  
Final words are uttered over his shoulder and Woondo stands back-to-back with his fellow lead, his and Jun's chests rising and falling out of time with each other.  
  
A moment of taut silence passes; a stab at impact before intermission.  
  
A collective weight lifts off the ensemble's shoulders at their sparse crowd's zealous applause.  
  
  
  
**EXT. GOLD HEART THEATER - FIFTH SHOWING - LATE EVENING**  
  
"Woondo-ssi!"  
  
He stops, teeth on the verge of chattering, and glances curiously over his shoulder.  
  
_It's cold tonight_ , he noted as he shrugged on his jacket, cast and lingering crew all packed up for the night. Jun had looked at him with worried eyes, before reaching out to feel his forehead. Woondo stopped it en route with an annoyed huff. If the grimace on his face was anything to go by, the hold he had around Jun's wrist was too tight. Woondo loosened his grip and, after a tense beat, dropped the hand back to his side. _I'm fine_ , he insisted.  
  
He feels the urge to lift the same hand up and feel the girl's head—this stranger hurtling towards him in a short, frilly skirt and knee-highs, and a jacket that seems to hug her figure better than it keeps her warm.  
  
It's not freezing, but the evening breeze slips past the insufficient barriers he's waiting to keep it out: a light jacket and old, faded jeans. The chill nips at his skin like pins and needles. Seeing this girl, this stranger stopping in front of him with a blinding smile, makes him feel colder than before.  
  
He turns to face her slowly, raising an eyebrow expectantly when he asks, "Who...?"  
  
"Ah," she sighs, seeming to take a second to chide herself for not making her intentions immediately clear. "I'm a fan! Could you sign this for me?"  
  
She holds a blue glitter pen and an opened journal up to his chest. At the top right of the page is today's date in big, bolded letters. The title of the production is scribbled in loopy cursive a few lines below it, underlined more than once. He blinks.  
  
"My sister is one of the makeup artists. Jaeeun-ah? She's waiting for me - we're going to get coffee, but I really wanted to get this from you tonight! You're very talented. Even if she wasn't working on the show, I think... I think I would be glad I came, because of you. So."  
  
Woondo stares at the page, waiting for the margins to bleed into ink, for the paper to be painted blue and for his ceiling to welcome him to the start of a new day. Or maybe for the floor of the dingy cafe four blocks down to come into view, Jun's hand swatting his arm to get him to wake up after falling asleep sitting up again. Neither happens.  
  
This girl, this stranger—Jaeeun's sister, apparently—is staring at him with big bright eyes, hopeful glint dimming a little with every moment that passes.  
  
He takes the pen held between her fingers.  
  
  
  
**INT. DO &JI CAFE - LATE AFTERNOON**  
  
"So," a teaspoon hits the rim of Jun's cup, the loud clunk making Woondo's head throb almost as much (if not more) than the way Jun slides forward with this _look_ on his face. Woondo tries not to wince. "Jae noona tells me you got yourself a fan~."  
  
"It's not like that."  
  
"Oh, trust me, I know," Jun scoffs, mirthless. He sinks back into his seat, looking a little deflated. "It never is with you. That's why you're going to be stuck at home, moping about not being able to perform tonight."  
  
The rim of Woondo's mug feels the brunt of his tired glare. He runs a hand down his face and sighs; he can't run from this, he knows how Jun gets when he starts to tunnel conversations.  
  
"Why are you telling me this?"  
  
Woondo watches with squinted eyes and furrowed brows as Jun pours a third sachet of sugar into his tea. It's still untouched. His own drink, a simple hot chocolate, is a quarter of the way finished.  
  
"She's coming to see the show again tonight. Apparently got all sad-eyed when Jaeeun broke the news that one of our precious leads got himself sick this week. Which _wouldn't have happened_ ," Jun continues quite forcefully, cutting Woondo off before he has the chance to interject and tell him to get to the damn point already, " _if_ you had someone to look after you."  
  
"I'm fine looking after myself—"  
  
Jun waves his hand dismissively, wrist knocking his teaspoon in the process. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just—this isn't even about finding a girl. We're your friends. I'm your friend. And like, I get it. You came here wanting to make something of yourself, probably too prideful to go looking for help—" Woondo rolls his eyes at that. "—but the only thing you're gonna do is burn yourself out. Or up, in this case."  
  
He takes another sip of his hot chocolate, licking the whipped cream from his top lip. "How long were you holding onto that one?"  
  
"Solid five minutes. This whole intervention? A few months."  
  
"You're so nice," Woondo deadpans. "What would I do without you?"  
  
He gets a kick to his shin. He takes it without complaint, knows he earned it.  
  
"See if I ever try caring about you again, you ass."  
  
  
  
**INT. WOONDO'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - LATE EVENING**  
  
Shivering in the minimal warmth his blankets provide, Woondo stares at the plastic bag full of medicine he bought on his way home and the plate of orange peels beside it, and mopes about not being able to perform tonight. He mopes about having to perform at all.  
  
He mopes because he misses his mother, he mopes because he's missed his chance. He mopes because he has years before he hits twenty-five but he feels like he is at the end of his rope.  
  
He mopes because coming here and leaving home was a mistake. He mopes because he still finds ways to blunder the little he's managed to create for himself. He mopes because Jun is right; he's not blind to his own life and the gaping holes decorating its wall, or how dissatisfied he feels even after he finds a way cover up the tinier ones.  
  
Woondo mopes because it's cold and late and sickness has caught his throat and chest and mind.  
  
He pulls the blankets over his head and wonders how quickly his blocked nose would help him suffocate to death.  
  
  
  
**INT. GOLD HEART THEATER - DRESSING ROOM B - LATE EVENING**  
  
"If you came here to stare daggers into your understudy's head, he's gone home. He fucking bolted the moment Jaeeun mentioned seeing you on your way in."  
  
"Does he really think so little of me?"  
  
Jun grins, amusement etched into the curve of his eyebrows and the upturn of his mouth. It's a warm, friendly smile. Woondo understands why Jaeeun, the prickliest cactus he's ever met, wants to dunk him in her coffee. But preferably down her pants.  
  
"If you showed up to watch the show like a normal person and didn't just waltz in after we wrapped like the reaper, maybe we wouldn't be having this discussion."  
  
"Or maybe my scary mobster face would have shocked him into stage fright."  
  
Jun laughs. It's the deep, rumbling hearty one Woondo hasn't heard for a while. Not since before everyone was on their toes, scrambling like headless chicken after the excitement of their hard work becoming a reality was washed away by the presence of all the work they still had ahead of them.  
  
"You look better."  
  
"I feel better," he affirms. And he does; the past week's (month's, year's) gunk mostly flushed down the toilet with his snot-filled tissues.  
  
"Good enough to hop back on stage soon?"  
  
"If you'll have me."  
  
Jun claps a hand on his shoulder, as large and reassuring as his smile.  
  
"Always."  
  
  
  
**INT. GOLD HEART THEATER - DRESSING ROOM B - LATE AFTERNOON**  
  
"Woondo-yah?"  
  
He looks up from his screen. No new messages, none for the last week. She's typically more intrusive than that; if she's not asking about his sex life, she's checking in to make sure he's eaten hours after it would be acceptable for her to do so. He's worried.  
  
"Double checking here, but are you spending the next few days with anyone?"  
  
His eyes almost push out of their sockets, Woondo rolls them that hard.  
  
He shoves his phone back into his pocket before remembering he's partially in costume and setting it on the table. He knows exactly what button of hers to press to get this discussion swept under the carpet.  
  
"Shouldn't you be asking your precious Junnie-pie that question?"  
  
He gets the thick end of some makeup brush tossed at his face. Jaeeun's profuse apologies and busy hands; the _I swear, I was trying to hit your forehead, I swear_ ; her endless stream of guilty giggles—none of it makes the bleeding in his nose stop.  
  
  
  
**INT. GOLD HEART THEATER - TWENTY-FOURTH SHOWING - EARLY EVENING**  
  
On his first night back, Woondo sits in the very back row, hidden away in the dark, shadowy corner people rarely get _too_ close to, nursing a throbbing nose.  
  
The blood loss has finally stopped but it still feels sore; all he can hope for is his nose clearing up before they all go drinking tonight and a very tipsy Jun starts poking at it and calling him Rudolph.  
  
Hyunki, his understudy, is a better actor than Woondo could ever hope to be. At least that's how he feels, watching him add layers of character to lines that Woondo can't fathom himself managing. But he can't carry notes with the same sustained emotion Woondo can even on his ‘just okay' nights, and he doesn't fill out the character's leather jacket as well as Woondo does.  
  
There's room for him to improve. Not that he even really needs to. Hyunki's already good. Really good.  
  
It takes more effort than it should for him to stay in his seat and not shuffle out of the nearest exit.  
  
  
  
**EXT. GOLD HEART THEATER - BACK DOOR - MID EVENING**  
  
Woondo peeks into the dressing room to compliment Hyunki on his performance and manufactures an excuse for himself to leave during intermission.  
  
(" _We were going to get festive and drunk together, you can't skip out on us like this!"_ _  
__  
__It's amazing how such a lightweight can get so excited about the idea of getting sloshed and falling asleep hours before anyone else even starts to_ consider _heading home for the night._ _  
__  
__"Bleeding to near death is tiring, Jun._ ")  
  
He gets stopped at the back door, trying to avoid the bustle out front. The crowd's bigger than it was on their first night. He never got to see it grow. It niggles at him but not for too long, replaced with an oddly placed veil of contentment.  
  
Maybe it wasn't his place to see it expand, little by little. Maybe he's right where he's supposed to be: always part of the crowd, always watching.  
  
"Woondo!"  
  
Jaeeun is grinning at him when he turns, standing ramrod straight. Like she's trying to look taller than she is.

Or trying not to look like she's hiding something. He's immediately suspicious.  
  
"Don't look at me like that." Woondo raises an eyebrow. Jaeeun stiffens and then huffs. "Fine, whatever, do what you want. Show your fans your true self."  
  
As it turns out, it's possible for his eyebrow to raise even further.  
  
"Your sister's here?"  
  
"Do you know her name, Woonie-yah? _Is she single_ ~?"  
  
The sound of Jaeeun's laughter fades into a fuzzy kind of static.  
  
That voice. That head of hair peeking out from behind Jaeeun's shoulder and the tiny body squeezing past her to get through the door. Woondo tightens his grip on the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.  
  
"Yah, are you really going to welcome me like this? Don't look so surprised! You didn't come home for months, any mother would start worrying enough to want to see her child with her own two eyes—"  
  
"Eomma."  
  
Her expression softens. Then she's smiling. Woondo cannot tell if it makes a piece of his heart mend or break.  
  
(Jaeeun quietly slinks back inside when she notices the wet streaks running down his cheeks. Woondo forgets she or anyone else exists when his mothers scoops up as much of his sagging body as she can manage and squeezes, trying not to sob with him.)  
  
  
  
**INT. WOONDO'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM, "DOES A HUMAN BEING LIVE HERE OR A GHOST? WHERE ARE YOUR COUCH CUSHIONS? I GAVE YOU THAT EMBARRASSING QUILT FOR A REASON!" - LATE EVENING**  
  
The patchwork quilt he had kept folded in his wardrobe has been laid out on his couch at a slanted angled because _it's cuter that way, Woonie-yah. Was all I passed down to you my genes?_  
  
Dirty dishes sit in the sink, waiting for Woondo's attention tomorrow morning. His mother is perched precariously on the very edge of the couch, left with barely any room to sit when her son's lying across it, his second thickest blanket tucked around him.  
  
The kettle's whistle cuts through the loaded silence like a knife; a carryover from when she pulled a thin stack of printed pages in a manila folder out of her overnight bag and dropped them onto the coffee table. Recruitment forms and audition announcements.  
  
(" _None of these are age-restricted."_ _  
__  
__"Just because they don't say it on the website, it doesn't mean—"_ _  
__  
__"Kwon Woondo," she scolds. He goes silent, lifting the lid off the pot of rice he already knows is done and cooked to near fluffy perfection; made just the way his mother taught him. "You're twenty. You have experience, talent, me and your father's good lucks. Just because a few screwballs couldn't see your worth when you were eighteen, doesn't mean no one will see it now._ ")  
  
Her fingers are still as gentle as he remembers, slowly combing through his hair.  
  
"At least think about it."  
  
"I told you—"  
  
"And I'm telling you it's never too late. Not until you allow it to be." She pushes some of his hair over his eyes. "Honestly, talking to you these days is depressing. You always sound so tired, you won't date anyone—"  
  
It's startles a laugh out of him, pinched and a little distressed. "Eomma."  
  
"And now you won't even allow yourself to try. You didn't come here to be some nobody musical actor, you came here to be a star."  
  
"I came here to get paid to sing, eomma," he mutters, wisps amusement winding around each syllable. He never cared much about the fame aspect of it, just wanted to spend his days and nights performing for people who wanted to listen, but his mother—she always drooled over the idea of getting to rub her celebrity son's celebrity status in their neighbors faces. Some things don't change; it's comforting. "I'm doing that now."  
  
"Are you happy with now?"  
  
Woondo can't bring himself to answer the question aloud, not honestly.  
  
His mother pulls her hand out of his hair and leans down. The kiss to his forehead is as careful and loving as the motions of her hand, and Woondo feels that same patching and tearing in his chest again. He missed her. He misses home.  
  
"Think about it," she whispers.  
  
  
  
**INT. SOME HOME DECOR STORE WOONDO DID NOT WANT TO GO TO - CHRISTMAS DAY - LATE MORNING**  
  
"Can't we go watch a movie like normal people? Have a nice lunch, perhaps?"  
  
"Stop your whining, Woonie-yah. We have two whole days together and I'm making you dinner tonight. Here," she pushes an obnoxious, purplish blue square into his arms. It feels awful under the pads of his fingers. It looks like a cushion, but Woondo wouldn't be too surprised if it unfurled and yawned at him. "Go ask that cute shop assistant what shade of blue this is."  
  
" _Eomma_."  
  
  
  
**EXT. DO &JI CAFE - NEW YEAR'S EVE - MID AFTERNOON**  
  
"As far as goodbye coffees go, that one tasted pretty good."  
  
"Goodbye?" Woondo lightly jabs Jun's side with his elbow, jogging down the rest of the stairs leading up to the entrance. "You know I'll be back with my tail between my legs when this doesn't work out."  
  
"Your self-depreciation is reaching ‘I want to punch his face' levels of false, come on now."  
  
"It's one of the things you'll miss about me."  
  
Jun stops in the middle of the thankfully empty sidewalk to stare at him, mouth agape. Woondo stops too, a little concerned he's crossed some unspoken line. Of course, Jun doesn't take too long to make him question why he bothered feeling worried at all.

"There are goosebumps on my arms right now."  
  
"Is your heart beating fast, because I hear that's called love."  
  
The hit to his arm hurts, just a little bit. It's a bit annoying how seeing Jun being so rambunctious more than makes up for it. "Where the fuck's your sense of humor been hiding this whole time?"  
  
"It's of no use to an apex predator."  
  
It isn't that funny, but Jun still bursts out laughing; he looks close to tears. Woondo smiles a bit sadly at that—Jun's always been good at hiding things, better than him sometimes. But all that shared knowledge just makes it easier for Woondo to see through him.  
  
A year and some change is a long time to spend partially orbiting around someone else. He'll miss him, too.  
  
"I wish Hyunki could hear you right now. Did you know he glances at the door like you're gonna swoop in and pummel him to death before every show? I asked him about, and he said it helps him perform better." Jun pauses for effect. Woondo does him the courtesy of filling the silence in his head with a live studio audience laughing in disbelief. "How would raw fear help anyone do anything better?"  
  
"The same way telling each other to irrevocably damage our legs puts us at ease."  
  
Jun shrugs and nods his head in enlightened defeat, the barest hint of a pout on his lips.

  
  
**INT. WOONDO'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM, UP AGAINST THE BARE WHITE WALL - VIDEO RECORDING**  
  
_Hello, my name is Kwon Woondo. I am twenty and auditioning for D2's singers branch..._  
  
  
  
**INT. LN MALL - NEXUS'S OPEN FLOOR TALENT SEARCH - SHARED VIDEO, 01:36**  
  
**strawping** _shared a video_ : today just keeps getting better  
  
**b0bblenight** : @strawping i regret not coming with tbh, how long is this gonna last? i can drop in and drown after i swallow this paper  
  
**withmybaby32** _retweeted_ strawping  
  
**oh_yuh** _retweeted_ withmybaby32

 **re_bgnight** _retweeted_ withmybaby32: eat me goddamn

 **blazeclues** : @re_bgnight sit tf down pls ur gross

 **re_bgnight** : @blazeclues i can hear u salivating from here tbh

 **blazeclues** : @re_bgnight don't @ me bye  
  
**prncessmina** _retweeted_ oh_yuh: LOOK WHO POPPED ONTO MY FEED SOMEONE CALL THE DO TELL HIM HE LOOKS GOOD, TELL JUN HE IS ALIVE  
  
**jaybirdie** _retweeted_ prncessmina: @heojun4 @pj_aerin you're welcome

 **jaybirdie** : @pj_aerin especially you

 **pj_aerin** : @jaybirdie (*/ω＼*)  
  
**re_bgnight** : @prncessmina u know him???  
  
**prncessmina** : @re_bgnight he was in one of our productions last year, our tall ass sleepy-eyed tree boy. like i legit cannot believe

 **re_bgnight** : @prncessmina where tf are u hiding these beautiful wonders of life

 **prncessmina** : @re_bgnight the theater. but he's off our menu so i can't help you there. we've still got an a-class selection, though

 **re_bgnight** : @prncessmina can i thirst follow u pls

 **prncessmina** : @re_bgnight i won't tell if you don't

 **re_bgnight** _is following_ prncessmina  
  
**heojun4** _retweeted_ jaybirdie: @leehki boo.  
  
**leehki** : @heojun4 i regret telling you anything

 

**INT. WOONDO'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON**

"Hello?"

_"Woonie-yah."_

"Ah, eomma, hello." He moves his phone from one ear to the other when it starts to slip. The glass sitting on the coffee table is still half-full, but he won't have the time to down the rest of his water now. He should have drank straight out of the bottle.

_"How did the audition go yesterday?"_

"You know," his eyes sweep over the room, Woondo trying to pinpoint anything he might be forgotting as he buttons his shirt the rest of the way up. "Same old."

_"Hm, good. That means it went well."_

Keys, keys, where are his keys? He's looked everywhere except—

"Mhm. Eomma, I'll get back to you later. I'm running a little late for work."

_"Ah, is that so? Alright. I'll call you later. Oh, and what was the date for the showcase?"_

"Twenty-first." Of course they were on the couch. Of course they were hiding behind one of the damn throw pillows. He'd settled on something black and plain; his mother hadn't been the happiest about it, but it was better than nothing. "And it's not a showcase. The scheduled act can't make it, I'm just—"

_"You're just filling in, I know, I know. I'll see you at your showcase, Woonie-yah. Love you!"_

He tries his best not to smile as he grabs his jacket off the head of the couch.

"Me too."

  
  
**INT. GALAXY SEARCH IN SOUTH KOREA - VIDEO RECORDING - APPLICANT #173**  
  
_Hello, my name is Kwon Woondo. I am twenty-one and auditioning for the vocalists bracket._  
  
Thank you. You look especially composed, have you been to many auditions before this?  
  
_Ah, actually I've spent some time performing in front of others. It doesn't really bother that much anymore._  
  
I see. Then we're looking forward to what you have to show us. What will you be singing?  
  
_I will be performing "In A Dream" by Yoon Taeyong. Thank you._


End file.
